


Summer Skin

by veritasrose



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Cute, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, implied Tilma/Kodlak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:06:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritasrose/pseuds/veritasrose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short little fic about our favorite Companions when they were pups, and the poor souls who tried to look after them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Skin

    A pitiful howling distracted Tilma from her potato peeling. Sighing, she looked up to see three small forms silhouetted against the midday sun. The door swung closed, revealing Thorald Gray-Mane with a wailing Farkas in his arms and a worried Vilkas clinging to the edge of his tunic.

  
    “Goodness! What happened!” Tilma rushed to the trio, brushing the potato bits on her apron. The young Gray-Mane handed the sobbing child over to the care of the older woman.

  
    She cooed a bit and rocked the boy, until he settled and lay his head on her shoulder. He sniffled.

  
    “What’s going on in here?” Kodlak stalked into the hall. A lanky Athis followed behind. “I was out there trying to train the new whelp, and suddenly it sounded like a cat was being skinned!”

  
    “More like a pup,” Tilma said, eyes darting down to Farkas‘s scraped and bloody palms. Vilkas looked up a the blood worriedly.

  
    “My little brother and Idolaf Battle-Born were teasing them, and it got a bit rough,” Thorald said apologetically.

  
    “And just where are Avulstein and Idolaf?” Tilma asked sternly. For gods sakes! Those boys were too old to be teasing the younger ones like that.

  
    “They... uh... had to go to the temple, for healing,” Thorald said, looking down at the boy next to him. “Farkas punched my brother in the groin, and Vilkas bit Idolaf in the calf.”

  
    “They started it!” Vilkas defended when Kodlak glared at him. The five year-old stomped over to the older man, his fierce silver eyes burning up in defiance. “They said papa wasn’t coming back! They said he was dead!”

  
    “And t-they... called... me... s-stupid!” Farkas hiccuped, before renewing his wailing.

  
    “We defended our honor!” Vilkas continued shrilly. His little hands were balled into fists at his sides. He was definitely his father’s son! Jergen’s temper ran through the boy as surely as his gray eyes and dark hair.    

  
    “Confident little tyke, isn’t he?” Athis mused with a smirk.

  
    “You’ve no idea!” Kodlak grumbled. He ran a hand through his thick black hair. It was just starting to show some white at his temples. He blamed the twins for that. He hadn’t had one white hair when Jergen brought them back three years ago.

  
    Tilma said a farewell to Thorald, and made her way to the supply chest. Balancing Farkas on one hip, she retrieved a healing potion. She was looking more worn out these days as well. Tending a band of young warriors was one thing. Caring for a pair of unruly pups was another! She sat down with the bigger boy on her lap and uncorked the bottle.

  
    “Will it sting?” Vilkas asked worriedly, scampering over to his brother’s side.

  
    “Maybe a bit, but Farkas is a brave boy, aren’t you my dear?” she looked at the boy in her lap with her clear brown eyes and kindly smile.

  
    Farkas nodded, and bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He held up his hands nervously and Tilma poured a few drops of the healing potion on his scrapes.

  
    Little Vilkas’s eyes widened as he saw the skin heal up. “Wow! It’s magic!” he gasped. “What did if feel like, Farkie?”

  
    “A little tingly,” the bigger twin smiled, flexing his chubby hands.

  
    Vilkas looked up excitedly at Kodlak “Can I learn to make magic potions?” He bounced up and down.

  
    “Maybe Arcadia will teach you when you’re a bit older,” Kodlak smiled down at the eager little whelp.

  
    “Aw, but I want to learn now!” Vilkas whined, stomping his foot. 

  
    Uh oh, they all knew that tone. “Time for your nap, little pup!” Kodlak announced. He scooped the little boy up and tossed him over his shoulder. Tilma stood up, carrying the already dozing Farkas in her arms.

  
    “But I’m not tired!” Vilkas protested. His tiny fists beat weakly on the massive warrior’s back.

  
    “I don’t care.” Kodlak replied curtly. He couldn’t have Vilkas getting cranky and throwing a tantrum. Especially not in front of the Harbinger! It had taken every member of the Companions to convince him not to throw the boys in Honorhall Orphanage when Jergen disappeared. Now it was Kodlak’s responsibility to see they behaved.

  
    Vilkas crossed his arms and pouted, glaring at everyone and everything from his perch as he was carried downstairs. “This is very indignified.” he grumbled.

  
    “ _Un_ dignified” Kodlak corrected, impressed the five year old had attempted to use the word correctly.

  
    “Undignified! That’s what I said!” he insisted.

  
    Kodlak plopped the boy down on Jergen’s old bed. Most of the room was empty now. Jergen’s amor mannequin and weapon racks had been replaced by a low dresser and toy chest. He could have moved the boys upstairs with Tilma, but he liked having them in the room across the hall. It made the space Jergen had left behind seem less empty. He did his best to look stern at his shield-brother’s son. “You are stubborn one, you know that?” He placed his hands on his hips and sighed.

  
    “Am not!” Vilkas yawned.

  
    A sweet chuckle made Kodlak turn his head as Tilma made her way in with the bigger twin. Her once honey-blond hair was now mostly gray, but her eyes still looked alive and youthful. If she hadn’t followed in her mother’s footsteps, and pledged life in caring for the companions, he would have married her years ago!

  
    She lay Farkas down next to his brother. “Sleep, little one” she murmured to the drowsy child. She brushed Vilkas’s hair back from his face as his eyes closed. His mouth puckered in a slight “O” and he was fast asleep in moments.

  
    Kodlak sighed in relief. “These boys are going to be the death of me.”

  
    “Oh don’t be so gloomy,” Tilma slapped him playfully on the chest. “They’ll be the finest warriors since Ysgramor and make you proud.”

  
    They already did. The big man couldn’t help but chuckle as he turned to follow her out of the room. “Did he really bite Idolaf?”

  
    She laughed.  
  


* * *

  
  
    Kodlak was awakened in the middle of the night by a scuffling in the room across the hall. He reached for his greatsword, but relaxed when he heard tiny feet making their way toward his door. A shadow bumped noisily into the chair by the bed.

  
    He smiled in the darkness. “You’re a terrible sneak.”

  
    “Skjor says sneaking is only for theives and assassins!” the shadow piped up.

  
    Kodlak groaned inwardly at the interruption. “Skjor only says that because he’s a terrible sneak too!” he leaned over and struck a flint, lighting the candle on the nightstand.

  
    Vilkas stood before him with a scowl on his little face. His dark hair was mussed and his cheeks were rosy against his pale skin. He looked like he had been crying.

  
    “What’s wrong, my boy?” Kodlak asked gently.

  
    “Is it true, what Idolaf said? Is papa dead?” he looked up at the older man with absolute trust.

  
    Kodlak sighed, picked the boy up, and set him on the bed next to him. “I don’t know, my child. I honestly don’t know.”

  
    Vilkas looked down biting his lip. He wrung his little hands in his lap and his long eyelashes grew wet. “Are the other things, the things Avulstein said... are they true?” he quavered.

  
    Kodlak’s heart hammered. He had hoped this moment would never come, especially not while they were still so young. “What did he say?” he asked nervously.

  
    Vilkas looked up at him, hurt swimming in his young eyes. “He said Jergen wasn’t really our father. He said our mother was a whore and we got rescued from a cave of nic, necro... some bad wizards.” He searched the older man’s face for answers.

  
    Kodlak sighed, and pulled the boy to him. He needed a moment to think of his answer. Curse that Avulstein to Oblivion! He had no right burdening an innocent mind with that kind of knowledge. And where did Vilkas even learn the word “whore”? He was going to have a talk with the rest of the whelps about appropriate language when the young ones were around.

  
    He couldn’t lie to Vilkas, but there was no way he could tell him the whole terrible story... he sighed, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Jergen was most certainly your father.” Well, as certain as anyone could be about the matter. “And your mother was a sweet, kind woman.” Or at least she had been on the occasions that Kodlak had met her at the The Bunkhouse in Riften, before leaving her and Jergen to get reacquainted. “They both loved you very much.”

  
    “Then why did they leave?” Vilkas sniffled. He coughed.

  
    “Cover your mouth,” Kodlak sighed, wishing for the millionth time that Jergen had listened to him, and stayed with his boys rather than rushing off to battle. He put an arm around the child. “Sometimes things happen, little one. The circumstances of life don’t allow us to be with the ones we love.” Tilma’s face flashed in his mind. “I’m sure wherever your parents are, they are thinking of you and watching over you.”  
  
    “Kodlak?” the boy was curled up against his chest now, eyes closed. “Could you read me a story?” He coughed again and Kodlak worried that the poor pup was getting sick once more.

    “You need to sleep, Vilkas.” 

    “No I don’t,” the boy mumbled.  
  
    The big man chuckled. “Alright, but just a short one.” He smiled down at the little Nord. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to teach how to read stories of your own.”


End file.
